


(don't say it's) unholy

by cryromantic



Series: Fictober/Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Monster Hunters, Vampire Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryromantic/pseuds/cryromantic
Summary: Dimitri is a vampire who made a deal with a mortal. So what if the mortal happens to be a hunter?“I’ll be quick,” promised Sylvain, smiling down at Dimitri. He could not help but wonder how many creatures had heard Sylvain utter that phrase before meeting their ends. The small part of his mind dedicated to being fatalistic wondered when Dimitri would meet his end.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Fictober/Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948111
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	(don't say it's) unholy

**Author's Note:**

> Dimitri is a vampire. Sylvain is a hunter. They're dating. Sort of.

The pure silver rings bit into his flesh. Sylvain dragged his hands over Dimitri’s torso, leaving obscenely red trails leading from his collarbone to his hip. His instincts forced him to thrash and pull away from the threat; the heavy cuffs on his wrists refused to budge. Sylvain continued his unhurried exploration, apparently unbothered by Dimitri’s struggling.

He cracked open his eye and everything came into a bleary focus. “Sylvain,” he rasped, _“feed.”_

For all his kindness, Sylvain could still be cruel. That was the nature of a hunter. Sylvain ignored Dimitri’s plight and he continued the slow, methodical drag of his hands over Dimitri’s body. A slow, tortured whine slipped from his pale lips.

Dimitri’s head fell back to the hardwood with a loud _thunk._ He stared upwards, counting the imperfections in the ceiling as Sylvain continued his punishment.

He was angry when Dimitri had shown up on his doorstep, delirious and nearly-feral from starvation. Even so, he had let Dimitri in and quickly gathered the things they would need so that he could feed. Dimitri supposed this painful scolding meant Sylvain cared.

Pressure against his navel forced Dimitri’s back to arch. He tipped his head back, hissing angrily as his fangs unfolded from the roof of his mouth.

“Next time,” Sylvain drawled, “don’t wait so long to eat.” He chuckled but finally moved his hands. Dimitri was still tense as several _clinks_ sounded in his ears. Sylvain was removing his accursed silver jewelry. Dimitri managed the difficult task of turning his head so that he could watch Sylvain work. He closed his eye once more as Sylvain slid his prized—and supposedly enchanted—silver chain bracelet into a bowl alongside his rings.

Anticipation seized his unbeaten heart in a vice.

This ritual of theirs was for Sylvain’s protection. Special cuffs and chains made of iron smithed in the basement of a church. Blue ink blessed by a priest, that contained a few drops of holy water. Ancient sigils carefully drawn over his skin. These things sapped his strength for only a short while. Enough time for Dimitri to feed on Sylvain without fear of hurting him. Or worse.

Sylvain told him once that he thought too much for a dead person.

Dimitri focused on the soothing melody of Sylvain’s breathing. If he had a need for such a thing, Dimitri thought it would be a nice sound to fall asleep to.

A steady weight settled atop his hips and Dimitri looked to see that Sylvain had settled astride him. In his hand was the little bottle of ink. Dimitri watched, enraptured, as Sylvain unstoppered the bottle with his teeth and spit the top out onto the floor. He dipped the index finger of his right hand into the bottle. It came out shiny and coated with dark blue.

“I’ll be quick,” promised Sylvain, smiling down at Dimitri. He could not help but wonder how many creatures had heard Sylvain utter that phrase before meeting their ends. The small part of his mind dedicated to being fatalistic wondered when Dimitri would meet his end.

The first touch of Sylvain’s fingertip to his chest burned. Dimitri would have gasped if he had any need for air. Instead, he squirmed in a subconscious attempt to flee from the pain. Sylvain pressed his knee against Dimitri’s ribcage; a steady and distracting pressure.

“Don’t move so much,” he chided, “or maybe you want me to draw these wrong?”

Dimitri shook his head once and Sylvain patted his chest with the back of his hand. “Good boy.”

Time went on and Sylvain continued his work. At some point, he started to hum that slow jazz tune he loved so much. It helped Sylvain relax, at least if the way his heartbeat calmed was anything to judge by. Dimitri wondered when Sylvain would make good on his promise to show off the modern mortal things he held so dearly.

With every pass of Sylvain’s hand, Dimitri’s limbs grew heavy. His body thrummed with the ancient magic Sylvain so carefully summoned. Nimble fingers brushed over his nipple and the ghost of arousal settled deep in his belly. Dimitri couldn’t be sure if that was _really_ what he felt—lust was lost on him in this cursed form—but sometimes there was a pleasant pressure inside himself. It built steadily as Sylvain touched him.

The pain ebbed away and Dimitri’s senses dulled. He could no longer pick out all the sounds of the house or the distinct dust mites that danced in the air. He looked at his arm where it was still chained to the floor. Dimitri lifted it then let it drop. It landed heavy and useless. The chains rattled something fierce at the sudden disturbance.

“Sylvain,” he whispered, unsure why. Sylvain was still working.

“Almost.” 

A steady pounding broke through the sluggish dulling of his senses. Sylvain’s heartbeat?

Dimitri closed his eye and focused on the familiar rhythm. Were he still alive, he thought it would be nice if the beating of their hearts matched. Was that something mortals cared about?

“Last one,” Sylvain murmured, as he carefully painted down Dimitri’s side. His heart was beating faster now. It was almost time. 

Sylvain set the bottle down and swiped his hand over his shorts to clean off the excess ink. He indicated Dimitri’s cuffs with a nod of his head. 

“I’ll unlock these and we can have some fun,” he said, a smile set upon his handsome face. No matter how much Sylvain pretended that everything would be fine, there was always a possibility that something could go wrong.

The soft hum was back, but Sylvain’s heart didn’t seem to calm. Dimitri didn’t take it personally. If even one of the sigils were out of place, the magic would fail. He could easily overpower a mortal, especially while feeding. It didn’t matter how skilled the hunter happened to be. 

They have yet to have an incident, careful as Sylvain was. The danger of it all still lingered like a storm cloud.

Dimitri lied stock-still as Sylvain plucked a little iron key from the floor. It was kept close, but always out of Dimitri’s reach. The tiny sound of metal scraping metal rang in his ear and one of the cuffs fell from his wrist; it landed on the hardwood with a clunk of finality.

He lifted his arm, reaching out to rest his palm flat against Sylvain’s bare chest. “Warm,” Dimitri said, enjoying the small bit of heat he could leech from Sylvain’s skin.

With an amused snort, Sylvain unlocked the other cuff. “Frozen fish are warm compared to you,” he said. His tone was light, but Dimitri felt the way he shivered at the touch.

The other cuff came off, leaving a thread of tension behind. Now it was only a matter of who cut it.

Sylvain dropped the key into the bowl with his jewelry. He got off Dimitri, and settled near him. Kneeling at his side. “Come on.”

Dimitri rose slowly from the floor; his body still ached a little where the magic was settling in. He greedily took in the sight of Sylvain. Everything from his mussed hair, burning bright red in the scant light, all the way down to where his fingers drummed against his muscled thigh in a random pattern.

He crawled forward, pressing his forehead to Sylvain’s. “Thank you,” he croaked.

Wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s torso, he tugged his meal closer then pressed his nose against the pretty curve of Sylvain’s neck. He loved this part. When he could let his weakened senses be overrun by all the things that coalesced into the wild, unpredictable creature held tight in his arms. A hunter who was supposed to hate all things supernatural, but had given this one monster a pass.

Whether it was due to love or foolishness, Dimitri could not be certain. He asked Sylvain once and was told there is no difference.

His musings were cut short as Sylvain tugged hard on Dimitri’s unruly ponytail. “We’re on the clock here, buddy,” he asserted. He slid his fingers into Dimitri’s hair to scratch at his scalp. Dimitri shuddered and nodded, the simple touch enough to get him moving again.

Gingerly, he took Sylvain’s chin in his hand while the other cradled the back of his head. He tipped Sylvain’s chin up and away before leaning in once more. Dimitri indulged, for only a moment, in the pulse of blood against his lips. The sound and smell of it were utterly intoxicating.

Fingers twisted into the back of his shirt, silently begging him to get on with it. Dimitri opened his mouth, sinking his fangs into Sylvain’s neck. He tightened his hold as Sylvain gasped and flinched away. 

A single word came unbidden to his mind: _prey._

Dimitri closed his eye. It was only a thought. He didn’t need to act on it. He reached down to rub soothing circles against Sylvain’s waist. Eventually, he stilled and breathed a shaky sigh of relief. 

Taking that as a sign to continue, Dimitri bit down until the first drops of blood welled to the surface of Sylvain’s skin. He let his body sag as the metallic tang hit his tongue. Dimitri sealed his lips over the tiny wound and began to feed.

He took and took and took, even as Sylvain moaned and writhed in his arms. One of his hands slipped from the back of Dimitri’s shirt.

“Fuck, I’m hard for you.”

The words hit him like a brick and Dimitri closed his eye and sucked harder against Sylvain’s neck. “Don’t tease me, come on,” Sylvain groaned.

It had come as a bit of a shock the first time they did this and Sylvain started touching himself. _A little pain feels good,_ were his exact words back then. Dimitri found that he didn’t mind so much. The act rather fascinated him. Before he became a monster, he never had the chance to indulge much.

Sylvain panted and moaned Dimitri’s name as if he were the one with his hand wrapped around heated flesh. Instead, he scraped his teeth against Sylvain’s neck and squeezed his hip.

If Dimitri tried hard enough, he could imagine what it would be like to lie with Sylvain. Would Sylvain be as cruel as he was with his jewelry? Or careful and methodical as he was with the ink? He pulled away from Sylvain’s neck, having taken his fill. 

“You know how bad I want to fuck you?” Sylvain asked suddenly, his voice thicker than his blood. “All chained up for me like that?”

An odd feeling bloomed in his chest at the thought of Sylvain using him that way. He would enjoy that, he thinks. Dimitri licks at the stray drops of blood that still spill from Sylvain’s wound. Sylvain tastes like iron and sweat and smells so good, Dimitri could get lost in it. 

“Sylvain,” he marveled. The pain of his sigils had completely faded, replaced by a dizzying sensation of euphoria. His chin felt wet and he was sure it was painted cherry red. Sylvain was in no better a state. His body was damp with sweat, his breathing was fast and labored.

His arm continued its steady rhythm, even as Dimitri watched him. Sylvain looked at Dimitri, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“Would you,” he panted, suddenly grabbing Dimitri’s chin with his free hand. “Would you let me do that?”

Would he? His gaze traveled downward to where Sylvain’s hand disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. The rhythmic pumping stirred something deep inside. The part of himself he thought had been lost a long time ago. The part of himself that was still stubbornly human.

That was the part that longed for Sylvain. The only entity Dimitri had allowed himself to grow close to in centuries. He hated his cursed existence. What point did he serve? Sylvain saw something in him though. Enough humanity to offer himself to Dimitri as a source of sustenance, for as long as Sylvain lived.

He swiped his thumb over Dimitri’s lip, smearing the blood there.

“Yes,” Dimitri answered.


End file.
